


Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

by in_mylife (orphan_account)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Almost Plotless, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Monsters, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Fix-It, Fluff, Homophobia, Humor, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Top Richie Tozier, accounting major eddie, college stuff, english major richie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/in_mylife
Summary: Richie and Eddie go to college to get away from Derry, the tiny, horrible excuse for a town that consistently damaged their opinions of themselves. It's winter, which means it's cuffing season, which means Richie is even more affected by living across the room from the boy he's had a crush on for years.Generally fluffy and sweet.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my first published work! I decided to do a general cute, feel-good piece once my semester ended. no, I have not read the book, sue me. i'm not quite sure how long it will be, but i've got a bit done. follow my it blog on tumblr @spagheds. thank you so much for reading! :)

**November 22, 1994**

_Shit, I’m bored._

It’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Richie isn’t going home, because fuck that, dude. None of them are. He didn’t come all the way to college for nothing. Living in a shitty dorm suite was the best escape he could’ve asked for from the bone-chilling stranglehold Derry held on his life. _Fuck_ , he thought, _don’t focus on that too hard or you’ll pop a vessel_. He hopes his parents understand despite the fact that he won’t really explain why. He doesn’t even have to share a bathroom with fifty other guys, so bonus. He and Eddie managed to share their suite with Bill and Stan in the room on the other side of a shared bathroom. There are some things Richie one-hundred-percent understands about Eddie’s germ problems, and sharing a bathroom with a bunch of guys that don’t use soap on their ass is one of them. Bill and Stan wasted no time pushing their beds together once their parents left, preferring each other’s intimacy and warmth compared to laying rigidly on a twin sized bed. _Damn, that must be nice. Sleeping with the love of your life three inches away instead of three feet._

_And the whole them knowing they’re the love of your life thing._

He shakes his head disdainfully; that’s no good to think about either. He should really just give up on it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get the balls to say anything in the midst of every other thought spilling out of his mouth.

He shudders and stands to go to his bookshelf to look through his planner. Nothing. Well, what is he supposed to do? God, being home without Eddie is boring.

Richie tilts his head and his curls shift slightly before he picks up a record from one of the three shelves of them. I haven’t played in a while. I can actually play along to this without getting called a fairy. Fucking imagine that. Olivia Newton John stares back at him nylonically, and he shudders again as he lays the first record on the player. He lets the first few measures go as he picks up his guitar and flips on the amp under his bed. Just a little bit of quiet playing to focus on something that isn’t as pathetic as his love life. He starts playing with the twang of the music, eyebrows pinching gently as he focuses with his foot tapping against his comforter.

A knock sounds against their door to the bathroom. Richie smiles. “Come in.” He watches as the door opens out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Stanley.”

Stan rolls his eyes at Richie’s current position. “Oh, look at Mr. English Major, having free time to fuck around.”

“You’re a fucking art student, man.”

“Yeah, and I just spent six hours at the studio finishing a project. Not to mention all the shit I should be doing now.”

Richie’s lips purse. “Sounds like a you thing. I have immaculate time management.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. Did you even remember to eat lunch in all your wallowing?”

Goddamn it, he’s right. “I’ll have you know that I have bagel bites at my disposal for any hunger needs. And how do you know I’m wallowing?”

Stan smiles like a mother. “Eddie is going on that dumb date once he’s done with his class.”

“Hey, fuck you, dude.” Richie rolls his eyes as he plucks along to the punctuated music behind John Travolta’s voice.

Stan shrugs. “Sorry I’m right. Hey,” he starts flipping through a play on Richie’s desk as he sits in his rolling chair, “do you guys wanna go to the mall uptown tonight? Bill is saying if he doesn’t go out and do something he’ll have a fit.”

Richie hums and flicks his hair away from his half-frame glasses. “Sure, sounds good. If Eddie will be in the mood to do anything. He’s always so pissy after his dates.” He rolls his eyes as he remembers the way the kid slammed his books and dishes a little harder than usual Saturday evening. “Brat.”

Stan rolls his eyes in return sympathetically. “I know. He’s a little ridiculous. If he doesn’t want to date mini-Sonia, he should just dump her.”

Richie sighs and stops playing. “He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings~” he frowns and huffs. “More like doesn’t want to get eaten.”

“Isn’t their date a fucking picnic? Like, eating outside?”

“Yeah, riddle me that. I can’t even get him to eat chicken strips outside the dining hall. He hates that shit.” Richie slips his checkered guitar strap over his head and turns off his amp. “Why can’t I just get over it, man?”

Stan looks at him and smiles sadly. “I know. It sucks. But we’ve only been safe for a few months. Derry leaves a hell of a burn. I think you’re getting there. You’re open with touching him in a way that isn’t hitting and yanking him around, so.” He messes with the little wooden posing man on Richie’s desk to make it look like it’s slapping its own ass.

Richie smiles bitterly. He looks in the mirror at his own grey-blue eyes behind the glasses that are considerably thinner-lensed than the ones he had when he was younger. Why did they know? _How_ did they know? One day Bowers calls him a fag at the arcade and suddenly what feels like the whole world knows. Because to a thirteen year old in a town of ten people, the whole world does know. The Losers never mentioned it, so it seemed like at least they didn’t care. Is it written on his face or something? He bites his cherry-pink bottom lip and examines his lashes. _Maybe it’s because you were born looking like you wear makeup_. Then suddenly, he’s in that hammock, Eddie’s stocky legs pressing around his with Richie’s knuckles brushing just above the inside of his knee as he flips the page of his comic book. _“I can see your fucking vagina._ ” He huffs out a tiny laugh to himself and grimaces to his own reflection.

“Rich?” He shakes his head and snaps out of it to meet Stan’s gaze.

“Come on, eat something.” Stan frowns as he opens their freezer and grabs the aforementioned bagel bites. “I know you haven’t and you’re in that mood.”

“It’s not your business, Mom.” Richie sits across from his desk and flops back on his bed to look at his posters and string of colorful Christmas lights. Food sounds nice. “Thanks. For doing that, I mean.” Richie smiles to himself as he hears the microwave numbers being pressed.

“No problem. You’re turning into the scrawny resident of this room. Eddie just keeps adding more and more thickness and you’ve got gangly legs.” Richie groans.

“Dude, don’t talk about his legs. I can’t handle it and he wears those stupid shorts to bed in every possible color. I think he shops in the boy’s section of OshKosh. That’s probably where he got those dumb overalls, too.”

“Boy’s section clothes totally would not fit him.” Stan laughs and his shoulders shake gently with the sound. It makes Richie smile softly. “He’s got back.”

“Did you just fucking reference Sir Mix-A-Lot? Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, shut up, Trashmouth.”

“Is that what you and Bill fuck to?”

“Beep beep.”

Richie laughs and his eyes scrunch up happily. “You totally do. That’s hilarious.”

“Ooh, Eddie would hate that line about being five three.” Stan snorts and gets the plate of food out to bring it to Richie and set it on his chest. “'I’m five seven, that’s completely average for college boy height.' Like four inches makes a difference when we’re all at least six feet.”

Richie blushes as he remembers the way Eddie’s head tucks under his chin neatly. “Yeah. Poor baby feels left out. It’s too cute.” He picks up a bagel and bites into half of it. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” He grabs another and sits up to eat faster.

“Jesus, did you not have breakfast either?” Stan frowns and looks over his thin frame to try to find the answer for himself. He’s worried about Richie’s eating ever since the day people told the Losers about what Bowers said. Everyone spit out the word like poison, expecting the group to react in shock and disgust and to leave Richie to the wolves because of it. _Faggot_. Richie didn’t want his fries that night at the diner. Said he wasn’t hungry. Stan and Eddie had met each other’s concerned gazes. They were Richie’s favorite fries, but he was too busy staring at the red pattern of the table and pleading with Beverly to sit between him and Stan to consider them. Eddie still managed to sit across from him in the booth, feeling Richie shy away from the usual contact of their ankles under the table. Richie had wanted to sit on the inside with his hood bunched up around his neck to look smaller, less noticable. The high schoolers at the bar were either oblivious or figured he’d had enough ridicule in the last few days for them to care. Richie’s stomach was too tied in knots to consider eating and his voice was too close to breaking to talk. “ _ _I just don’t feel well. Shut up.__ ” He could barely keep back the tears, but he didn’t want to get out of the booth and draw attention to himself going to the bathroom for privacy. His hands shook against the table when they were open and clutched to the ends of his hoodie sleeves when they were closed. They could all tell he was scared. That never happened.

“No, I woke up late. Didn’t remember that normal people wake up before eleven and have food. But if we’re going to the mall I’m having a big dinner because that Chinese place is so good. How long did you put these in for? The bread didn’t go stale.”

Stan smiles to himself and shakes his head. “Just a minute. That’s more bagels than recommended for just a minute though, so they didn’t overcook.” A comfortable silence falls as Richie eats.

Suddenly, he asks, “Do you ever remember weird stuff from Derry? The arcade always smelled like new shoes.”

Stan freezes at the mention of the arcade. He tries to relax so Richie won’t notice. “Yeah, it was weird. That place always sort of freaked me out.”

Richie’s chewing slows down “Me too. Lots of places in Derry gave me really weird vibes. Never stopped going, though. Even after that fuckface said that shit.” He keeps eating as though nothing is wrong, and Stan lets himself relax.

“Rich, you were so brave. It’s probably because you can’t stand to keep your mouth shut.” Stan laughs at the face Richie makes and dodges a shove.

“Thanks for not being a fucking sap. Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I want to cry about the dumb bitch that tried to shit on me.”

The door opens harshly, cutting them off, and Eddie marches into the room, huffing.

Richie’s eyebrows shoot up as he picks up the next bagel. “Oh, hello.”

“Fuck! Shut up, Richie!”

Richie bursts out laughing. “Dude, what the hell?”

Eddie groans in frustration and slaps his backpack down on his bed “That was so annoying! Why did I eat outside? In the _dirt_?”

“Why are you dating a woman?”

Eddie glares at him and walks up to him to slap his shoulder. Richie scoffs and punches his hip in response. Stan stares at them blankly.

“Dude—dude, _fuck_ you.”

“That’s literally not what you said last night.” Their speech is punctuated by the hits they land on each other.

Eddie scoffs. “Hey! We did not do anything last night.”

“You’re right, it must’ve been Sunday.”

“AH! Shut UP!” Richie slaps him in response, holding his plate out of the blast zone.

“Guys! Stop!” Stan rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “What happened, Eddie?”

Eddie looks up from trying to grab Richie’s neck, frozen with Richie’s hand wrapped tightly around his wrist in defense. “Ugh. Don’t even get me started. She was so irritating.”

“Yeah, you’re back before you said you would be.” Richie looks at the clock and bites his lip as he drops his arm from its place in the air.

“I couldn’t stand it. I was just trying to eat before the food got gross and she tried to boss me around about what fast eating does to your stomach. I just wanted to get out of there because it was dirty and cold and it felt like I was on a date with my mom.”

“Yeah, no shit it was cold. We’re not in Maine anymore, but it’s still fucking Washington. It’s November twenty-second and she wanted to eat outside?”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “I know. It’s so stupid. And the food sucked because she doesn’t know how to make sandwiches.”

Stan snorts. “The only sandwich you’ve ever vocally praised is that one you got when we went to that kosher deli that one time.”

Richie’s fingers play with the black, stretchy threads at the hole in his jeans. “And even then you didn’t love the bread. You’re always nitpicky. I’m sure it wasn’t so bad?” He asks gently, already knowing the answer and looking to satisfy himself.

Eddie groans “But hers were just turkey and lettuce! What the fuck?”

Richie’s nose wrinkles and he bares his imperfect teeth “Oh.”

“Yeah, asshole, oh.”

Stan sighs sympathetically. “Sounds like you’re hangry and need real food. Bill wants to go to the mall. We were gonna dick around and get Chinese.”

“Fuck, please.”

They sit for a while, Richie picking up his play to read a few pages assigned for Thanksgiving break. Stan messes with all the artsy stuff he has lying around, and Eddie goes over his accounting notes in frustration. The silence is comfortable and punctuated by occasional huffs from the smaller boy, chuckles from Richie reading something entertaining, and scratches of a pen from Stan writing notes in one of Richie’s notebooks. After a while, Eddie grumbles, “This shit is so dumb. I’m bored. Bill should be home soon, right?”

Richie smiles and stands, ready to get outside for the day and breathe some fresh air. He hears the door of Stan and Bill’s room open through their bathroom and goes to grab his fleece lined jean jacket. He’s glad he found the tan monstrosity at a thrift store instead of paying however much a Levi’s jacket usually costs. The fur on the inside hadn’t been matted, and it seemed like no one had worn it before they donated it. Washington hipsters, man.

Eddie watches him pull it on over his typical ugly button up and red t-shirt. Richie’s hair curls up off the collars of his top and jacket. It makes Eddie’s heart flip. “You need a haircut, dude.”

Richie pouts at him through the mirror's gaze. “Aw, really? I like the mop look.” He flashes a smile and looks at his teeth in the reflection. “Maybe I’ll get it cut while we’re at the mall.”

Eddie’s heart pounds faster. That smile. That laugh. _God, how did I get here?_ He watches as Richie looks in the mirror again. His black curls frame his rosy-cheeked face so perfectly—even when his hair is cut it curls out from behind his ears and makes Eddie forget how gross he is because he looks so young. In the words of the boy himself, cute, cute, _cute_! Richie bites his lip and fixes his glasses, meeting Eddie’s eyes past his reflection again. His rosy cheeks go dark, and Eddie’s start to match.

He’s in his room in Derry. There’s a sharp sound against the window. He looks out and all he can see is Richie in his yard, holding up a middle finger. They bickered endlessly and even full on fought that day, but Richie still wanted to stop by his house to bother him one last time before bed. Eddie smiles to himself as he remembers flipping him off in return, quickly leaving the window as his mother entered the room. _“I thought I heard an animal, ma. I was just going to bed.”_ The other boy was gone before she inspected the view.

Richie puts on his black slip ons as he balances against the wardrobe that takes up the entire wall by the door. He fixes his glasses again—never taking the time to adjust the nose pads properly—and stands straight. “Okay, I’m ready. Sorry I got dressed so fast, I’m bored as fuck.” He smiles at Stan and Eddie sweetly and frames his face with his hands.

Eddie shrugs, wanting to reassure Richie despite nothing being wrong. “I’m still dressed from that horror show. Let’s go over for Stanley to get ready.” He smiles back and runs a hand through his wavy brown hair. He recently started parting it a different way, making it look even more textured and golden than before. It drives Richie crazy. He didn’t think Eddie could be any hotter, but every day it seems like he gets stockier, more golden, more delectable. He walks behind him through the bathroom just to look at his broad, perfect shoulders.

“Bill, man, you ready to go to the mall?” Richie smiles and pats his shoulder.

Bill chuckles. “Yeah, let me find m-my wallet.”

Richie nods. “Good deal. Shit," He pats his empty pocket in realization, "I should do that. I’m going to a mall.” He turns to go back into the room and grabs his wallet out of his backpack. He looks back toward the other room and Eddie and sprays some breath spray into his mouth. Even though they’ve been close for years, Richie can’t help but want to impress him. He sprays one spurt of cologne on his neck and chest and walks back into the other side. “Okay, now I'm ready.” He looks at Eddie and bites his lip. _Damn, he looks so good_.

Stan straightens himself from adjusting his blue speckled socks in his brown loafers and Bill grabs his car keys.

“I’m excited. We haven’t done anything in w-weeks.” Bill smiles at all of them and puts his arm around Stan’s shoulders.

“I know.” Richie’s arm itches to do the same to Eddie. He shoves his hand into his pocket. “It’ll be nice to get away from campus.” He bites his lip nervously and looks away from the group at the trees they’re walking past.

“You’re fidgeting, Rich. What’s up?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch.

“Oh, uh,” Richie swallows, “just the uh, haircut. Haven’t had one in a while.”

Eddie forces him to take his hand out of the pocket to hold it “It’ll be okay. If it’s wrong I can clean it up at home.”

At home.

_Our hands are touching. He’s twining our fingers together. Oh, God._

Eddie knows the haircut isn’t what’s making him nervous. He feels the same thing.

Richie laughs a little frantically. “I guess so. No big deal.” He squeezes his hand a little tighter and walks just a little closer. He watches the couple in front of them fall into their own quiet conversation, so he figures they should, too. “So… are you okay? After your date?”

Eddie bites his lip. “Guess so? I just don’t… I don’t understand how I can want to break up with someone so badly and then just. Not.”

Richie’s breath catches in his throat. _Maybe like the way I can be so in love with you and not want to say a thing._ “You’re just so nice. You’re too sweet and cute to break someone’s heart.” He looks at Eddie and his eyes sparkle in the occasional street light that flickers on at this time of day.

Eddie blushes. He can’t not when Richie looks at him like that. “Rich…you’re too nice to me.” Richie shakes his head. “No. I’m just right for you. I could probably be worse.” He pushes their arms together, wanting to meet their clothes and skin and souls. “It’s cold.”

Eddie nods. “Really cold. I can’t wait to be in the car.”

Bill hums, “Well, here we are.” He unlocks the car from a few feet away; they all look to Richie expectantly, but the black-haired boy stays silent.

“Uh, Earth to Trashmouth? Shotgun?” Stan waves a hand in front of his face.

Richie hums and looks at Eddie with soft eyes. “You take it. It’s your boyfriend’s car. You guys probably wanna make out while he’s driving, or something.”

Stan rolls his eyes at the excuse. “Yeah, right. Lame excuse. You’ve never had any qualms before.” He gets in the front as they clamber into the small backseat, but Eddie doesn’t bother to scoot to the opposite side. Richie bites his lip and takes a chance as he puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. He closes his eyes and sighs almost gratefully as Eddie cuddles into his side. He cracks his eye open to take a look and yellow catches his eye on the floorboard.

“Hey look, it’s my disposable from that time we went hiking. It’s still got ten pictures.” He settles back in as he slips it into his jacket pocket, satisfied.

Eddie looks up at him while his eyes are closed and smiles to himself as he breathes in Richie’s cologne. It’s lavender and citrus, and totally not what you’d expect looking at his Hawaiian shirt and glasses-wearing self, but it’s the only thing Eddie could ever picture him wearing. The lavender is earthy and masculine, helping Richie with his anxiety, and the citrus highlights Richie’s annoyingly charming disposition. He switched what he was wearing without a word when Eddie complained about the eucalyptus giving him a headache. He didn’t have to, but he did. _“That Tozier boy is a horrible influence. I heard awful things about him from the other mothers. Good boys don’t stay around boys like him. He’ll get you sick, Eddie.”_

_“Mom, he won’t get me sick. He’s just Richie.”_

_“Richie isn’t safe for you to be around. He probably wants to do bad things to you. It’ll kill you, Eddie” “_

_I don’t care if he does. I might want him to._ ” Eddie frowns slightly at the memory. Nothing could ever convince his mother that living with Richie at college was safe when they told her. Not after what the other women said about him the summer before they started high school. He doesn’t care because it’s Richie. Richie, Richie, Richie. Whenever he was involved, he couldn’t find himself caring about anything else.

“Eds?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, what?”

Richie smiles. “You were staring at me. Wondering if I’d do to you what I did to your mom?”

“Dude, shut the fuck up.” Eddie huffs and pushes against his side to try to move away.

Richie catches him with the arm still around his shoulders and uses his free hand to hold Eddie by the jaw. “Aw, Eds, I’m sorry. C’mere.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek and slaps the other gently. Stan’s eyebrows raise and he and Bill give each other a pointed look.

Eddie is frozen. Richie hasn’t kissed his cheek in years. The last time he did was when Eddie fell off his bike and broke his arm. Richie wanted to make him feel better so badly, so he gave him a kiss on his tear-stained cheek as he helped him calm down to get home in two pieces. _“I know it hurts. It’ll be okay. I know it burns, Eds, I know. Please, you’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.”_ He had to leave, of course. Unless he wanted his parents to hear from Sonia that her son had broken his arm while hanging out with their son and his maniac group of friends. It didn’t stop Richie from wiping his tears and kissing his freckled, sun-red cheek. Now, rather than the kiss spreading warmth through his panicked body, it was more like a hole burning through paper. Eddie had no clue what to do with the slash of a hot knife the kiss sent through his chest.

“Jeez, okay, I really will leave you alone.” Richie’s arm leaving his shoulders feels like ripping his own arm off. The black-haired boy holds both hands up in defense and shakes his head. “No more messing around, Eddie Spaghetti. Serious comments only.”

Stan holds his hands open to the roof of the car. “Eddie, you fixed him! Who knew all he would need is little to no reaction to a kiss on the cheek? By God, you’re a genius!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and sinks into his seat as his cheeks go dark.

“Hey, Richie, d-does being serious m-m-mean you’ll buy dinner?” Bill smiles in the rearview mirror and Richie howls.

“Fuck no, Bill! You’re the rich one!” It’s not true. They all have about the same amount of money. Bill is just really good at thrifting expensive shit.

“Am not.” Bill rolls his eyes and laughs as he pulls into the parking lot of the mall.

Richie looks down at Eddie and bites his lip. “Sorry. That I kissed you, I mean.”

Eddie looks up and his brown eyes flare into streaks of gold and caramel as Stan’s door opens, turning on the cabin light. “It’s...it’s okay.” He smiles and sits up straight to kiss Richie on his soft cheek. He bites his lip as Richie freezes and reaches across his body to open the door. “Pip pip.”

Richie smiles and gets out, holding his hand out and bowing for Eddie to take it. “M’spaghetti.” Eddie rolls his eyes and takes his hand, blushing once again when Richie stands straight and towers over him.

“Fuck, you’re tall.”

“No, babe, you’re just short. Shall I get my haircut first?” He looks at everyone for their replies. Stan and Bill shrug together and Eddie shoves him. “We don’t care.”

Richie smiles wickedly. “Oh cool, and maybe later we can rob a bank or get caught with a gram.” Bill smirks and meets Stan’s look. “You wanna smoke later?”

Richie does a little victorious fist pump. “Fuck yeah, I do. You gonna finally join in, Eds?”

“Even if I was, you calling me that made me decide not to.” Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves him again as they start walking to the haircut shop. “I have asthma, you idiot.”

Richie pushes his bangs back and runs his hands through his floppy curls a few times. “Your loss.” He’s going to miss the floppiness, but it’s pretty annoying against his glasses. He smiles dashingly at the receptionist as they all walk in, asking if there’s an open slot with someone that does curly hair. He leans against the tall desk and his smile turns into more of a lopsided smirk as he talks to the freckled, short-haired girl.

Eddie feels an uncomfortable, jealous heat grow in his stomach. Stan leans in to Bill to murmur, “Looks like someone has a type.” Bill snorts and nudges Stan with his shoulder as he shakes his head. They stand back a few feet and watch Richie put his debonair moves on the girl. She’s smiling and blushing good-naturedly, calling over the available hairdresser to take him back.

Richie slips his jacket off and turns to Eddie. “Hold this?”

Eddie rips it from his hands and folds it over his arms without a word. Richie wrinkles his nose in misunderstanding and follows the hairdresser back.

“That was so annoying.”

“Y-you’re not very subtle, Eddie.” Bill smiles at him and pinches his cheek. Eddie shoves him away, fuming and blushing at Richie’s cologne wafting close to his face.

“I don’t have anything to be subtle about.” They all sit together at the front, watching Richie sit in the chair and have his apron put on. Eddie bites his lip as he watches the first snip, small black curls falling to the floor. The haircut doesn’t take long, and it looks crazy before the hairdresser mists it to brush it through and let it re-curl. The ends at the nape of his neck curl up again and the hair resting by his ears starts to curl down rather than out. He looks adorable as he puts his black and gold glasses back on, smiling and standing to shake the hairdresser’s hand. “Thanks, it looks great. I can see now.”

The hairdresser smiles and pats his cheek. “Oh, look at you! Such a handsome young man.” She leads him up to the desk and gives him a heart-shaped sucker as she checks him out, the receptionist busy on a phone call. He leaves a generous tip, because he’s a gentleman, and walks over to the boys as he unwraps the sucker. “Better? Less wild?”

“No, you still look like a forest child.” Stan stands and stretches. “That was quick, dude. You look hot.”

Richie winks and pops the sucker into his mouth behind a smile. He turns to the door and opens it for everyone to go into the rest of the mall. “Oh, Spaghetti, I can take my jacket back now. Thank you for holding it.”

“Whatever.” Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms after Richie takes it.

Richie coos and pinches his cheek. He pulls the red sucker out to rest between his lips and smiles at him gently. "What a cutie."

The arcade is almost completely empty, of course, because it’s the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break. They all get out two dollars to go in, looking at the flashing colors across the dark walls excitedly. They all expect Richie to make a beeline for the Street Fighter game, but he goes to the claw machine instead. He looks back at Eddie fuming in his little red coat and presses the power button.

“What are you doing? Those things are rigged.”

“Why would it be rigged in a place that charges admittance?”

“I don’t know, sadism?” Richie snorts and shakes his head as he directs the claw over a small stuffed animal deer. He leans back and to the side to check the angle before dropping the claw, its metal talons wrapping around the deer’s torso securely. It drops into the shoot and the machine flashes and gives off a loud, electronic victory sound. Richie takes it out and brushes it off animatedly, turning to Eddie and stepping close.

“Eddie...I’m sorry you didn’t have a good day. This is for you.” He smiles and brings the deer up between them, the brown felt nearly brushing both of their chests. “Forgive me for being dashingly annoying?”

Eddie pouts. He doesn’t want to give in to that annoying, bratty, stunning face. He wants to stand his ground and teach him a lesson. But he can’t. His hard exterior breaks, a shy smile spreading over his face. “I guess so.” He takes the deer, suddenly being turned so the lights of the arcade cover their faces. Richie puts his arm around his waist, pulling out the cheap camera and turning the flash on low to get a picture. His sucker stick pokes out of the corner of his smile, lips stained red from the candy. A dull flash of white goes off as he takes their picture. He looks down at Eddie as he hears Bill and Stan move over to another game. He feels even bolder than before, so he slips the sucker out of his own mouth and presses it to Eddie’s lips softly. Richie’s lips part as he watches Eddie take the shiny red heart into his mouth, barely breathing. A loud noise from a game breaks them apart, both of their faces going red as Eddie’s hand comes to the sucker stick. Richie takes a deep breath, licking his lips and walking to the game Stan and Bill went to play.

They stay at the arcade for a while, trying to beat their high scores still in the machines from their last session. A quiet silence falls over them, interrupted by Stan’s stomach growling.

“Well, I guess that means it’s time for dinner.” Richie says to distract Stan as he lands a fatal blow against the other boy’s fighter.

Eddie nods, biting on the plastic stick left from the sucker. “I’m about to eat this. Let’s go.”

Richie fixes his glasses and licks his lips and lets the other three walk in front of him as they leave so he can get another picture. He wants to get enough so that they can get them developed before they go back to their dorm. They’ve got clothespin strings in both of their rooms to put up polaroids and disposable film of each other and be cute queers (Eddie excluded from any labelling because of reasons, but he’s an honorary gay of suite 324). The pictures from the hike and the colorful arcade lights will look nice with the golden hour pictures they took when they first came to college.

They get a booth in the Chinese restaurant and tell the hostess what drinks they want before they go to the buffet. Richie gets his usual General Tso’s chicken with potatoes and green beans and goes back to the table before the rest of them are even close to finished with choosing. He never changes what he gets, because this is clearly the best food at the entire buffet. He watches the others deciding what they want to get little samplings of, focusing in on Eddie as he leans down to inspect the food before deciding it’s okay to get.

The hostess brings their drinks and he gives a bright smile. “Thank you.” She nods gracefully and wisps away, leaving him with his thoughts again. He waits to eat until everyone comes back, remembering his manners for the people he actually cares about. They all give soft smiles as they sit, Stan and Eddie sitting across from their respective roommates. Richie looks up at Eddie as he uses some hand sanitizer, smiling to himself dumbly as Stan and Bill share another look. “The food touched the same stuff your hands did, dude.”

“Um, people do not just reach into the hot plates of food. They all touch the spoon handles.”

“But don’t the germs just travel down into it?”

“Fuck you, Rich, no they don’t. Germs don’t travel the same on plastic and metal.”

Richie laughs and locks their ankles together under the table. He feels Eddie rub his sneaker against his calf comfortingly, a small warmth spreading from his feet to his cheeks. They eat in relative silence after their bickering.

“This’ll be nice for when we get back. We won’t eat everything we have once we’re influenced.” Stan finishes his last bite and picks up his fortune cookie.

“Influenced? Are you my fucking dad?” Richie sits back in the booth, practically full to bursting. He nudges Eddie’s foot gently, making his eyes come up to meet his own. I think the people in the Renaissance were right. Eye beams make you fall in love.

“Do you want me to be? I've always thought Wentworth is sexy.” Stan looks at him with a quirked eyebrow and laughs when Bill kicks him under the table. “That’s fucking gross!” He hisses out, looking around them to check if anyone heard. No one is else is near them, but he still blushes and hides his face in his hands.

Richie’s eyebrows raise and he licks his lips as his gaze rakes over him. “Don’t be so embarrassed, Bill. Worse things have been said by this very group in this very restaurant. Remember that time Eds—”

“Okay, anyway!” Eddie’s cheeks turn bright pink at the memory, wanting Richie to stop before he actually repeated what he said. He was feeling feisty that day and wanted to shock them the way Richie usually did. Shocked they were. He would never live it down, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him giggle.

Stan rolls his eyes at his fortune and throws it onto his plate. “That’s so fucking stupid, it says ‘smile if you like this cookie.’ I don’t fucking like it, it tastes like vanilla cardboard.” He pops the other piece into his mouth and huffs.

Eddie hums. “Mine had a Wham quote. Bullshit.” They all shake their heads and stand to leave, untangling their feet from under the table. The ride to the pharmacy is full of loud music and hand holding, and Richie’s last picture on the camera is a gorgeous picture of Eddie with the lit street flying by out the car window. They shuffle through the developed prints in the backseat as Bill takes them back to campus, commenting quietly on the quality of each one. Richie has a knack for making disposable cameras work. Their walk back to the suite is uneventful other than some shivering cut short by how close Bill got to park.

Once upstairs, Richie sets the pictures on his desk and pulls out his box full of weed paraphernalia, lighters, and incense. He hums as he takes out his favorite scent, setting it on his desk by the open window and lighting it for it to start smoking. They let it burn for a few minutes to get the smell strong enough to cover the smell of the real smoke. They sit in a circle with an ashtray between them, Bill and Stan with their own joint and Richie with his. Eddie will sit with them all night long, but he won’t take one single hit.

“I promise if it gets to you when you do it you can just use your inhaler.”

“But it’s so hot that it’ll burn my lung tissue. I don’t have any to spare, asshole.”

“Dude, c’mon.”

“Fuck you.”

Richie rolls his eyes and takes a hit, eyes raking over Eddie in consideration. He tilts his head back as inspiration hits, blowing smoke into the air. “What if we shotgun?”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I take the hit, you get the smoke. No burning. Easily accompanied by your inhaler.”

“Ew!”

“Dude. Really. It’s just smoke.” Eddie looks at him woefully. He looks at Bill and Stan practically holding their breath in anticipation. How bad can it be? They smoke all the time and they don’t even cough. It really helps Richie with his fidgeting. Maybe it could help him fucking chill out, too.

_“And now that Tozier boy has the smell of marijuana all over you. I always knew he was a criminal.”_

_"Mom, there’s nothing wrong with it. He has anxiety and his parents won’t get him medicine for it.”_

_"You don’t need medicine for anxiety. It’s all in your head. Probably all his guilt building up inside of him.”_

_"Guilt for what?”_

_"Being a sinner and a criminal.”_

“Okay, sure. If you say it won’t burn.”

Richie beams at him. “It won’t, I promise. I won’t let it hurt you.” Bill and Stan giggle to each other excitedly, feet pattering against the rug. “Aw, Eds, first hit and it’s a shotgun! That’s so cute.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Why?” Then Richie is right by him, his strong hand coming up to Eddie’s chin, turning his head to face him. His thumb brushes right below his lip, willing him to open his mouth. He watches as a pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before his jaw drops slightly. He swallows as he holds the smoke just a little longer to be sure it won’t sting as much, and then he leans impossibly close to breathe it into Eddie’s mouth. He hears Eddie breathe in quietly, his chest rising as thick curls of white smoke mingle in the scant distance between their mouths. Richie watches the other boy’s honey eyes go heavy from the proximity and the mere idea of being high, and he gives one last puff of air to keep the smoke in Eddie’s mouth before he pushes his jaw up with his hand assertively.

“Hold it. Don’t breathe yet.”

Eddie nods, nose scrunching at the taste. Richie’s hand is still on his jaw, blue eyes scanning Eddie’s face like his life depends on it. Eddie breathes in through his nose and Richie barely nods, letting him know he should breathe out. Thinner curls of smoke pour out than Richie’s, but he doesn’t cough. Stan and Bill cheer excitedly, but Richie can’t stop staring at him.

“Do you feel okay?”

“Give me another.”

Richie’s eyebrows raise. “Another shotgun?”

“Yeah.”

Richie swallows. He could barely control himself for the first one. “Y-yeah, okay.”

“I don’t feel anything.”

Stan laughs. “You won’t for a second. It probably won’t be as intense, either.” He takes a hit after Bill hands their joint to him, sitting back against Eddie’s bed to relax. Richie brings his joint to his lips, taking a bigger hit to give Eddie more. He waits to feel the tingle in his own chest before he turns to him again, holding his jaw that’s already slack. He leans in so their noses touch, so close to meeting lips that he feels a thread of heat lead to his crotch. He breathes out and hears Eddie suck the smoke in slowly, both of their gazes going lazy. Bill and Stan look at each other and shift, feeling the tension thicken considerably. Richie has to force himself to keep the distance he’s at, his body thrumming with the magnetic urge to close the distance. The room feels languid and heavy from more than just the smoke. His thumb strokes along Eddie’s jaw as they sit and wait, and eventually he feels smoke coming back into his mouth. He chuckles breathlessly, not wanting to pull away. He bites his lip and leans back to take a drag for himself, urging himself to calm down.

Eddie slowly melts, his demeanor puddly and sugary sweet. He giggles at the smallest comments, his usually stiff shoulders small and sloping. They sit, quiet for a while, and eventually close the window so it can warm up and the last of the incense smoke can cover the smell. Richie bites his lip nervously when they hear a knock on the door. It could be anyone, but it could especially be their RA. That’s not good.

“Stan, you go check.” Richie whispers and nudges him.

“Me?!” Stan hisses back, but he looks at Eddie tucked into Richie’s side under his arm and Bill asleep in Eddie’s bed, so he rolls his eyes and stands. He looks through the peephole and breathes only a small sigh of relief. He opens the door, forgetting Richie and Eddie’s current position, and greets Myra. “Heyyy, Myra! How are you?” He smiles nervously, the corners of his mouth never fully making it upward. Myra’s eyes enter the room greedily, and she sees Eddie squished into Richie’s side. Then she gets the smell of weed under the blanket of incense.

“Are you smoking cannabis?” She marches in furiously, looking at Richie whose eyes are closed with his head against the bed as he groans. “What did you do to Edward?!”

Richie frowns and opens his eyes, holding Eddie closer as he shifts. “Do to him?”

“Look at him! He looks like a pothead, just like the rest of you! Did you make him?”

Richie snorts. “No? Listen, lady, Eds is a man. He decides what he wants to do.”

“Um, his name is Eddie.” Eddie frowns at his name leaving her mouth.

“Hey, Rich can call me whatever he wants.” Eddie huffs and opens his eyes.

“Oh, Rich? I thought we agreed that you call him Richard.”

Richie grimaces. “Never once has anyone called me that. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you even here?”

“Edward hasn’t answered my texts all night. I knew something was wrong, just look at him!”

“My phone is dead, Myra.” He grabs the blanket beside him and pulls it up to his chin. “I told you that earlier.”

“Yes, but I expected you to charge it. What did they do to you? Did you have an asthma attack? Get off of my boyfriend, you—you criminal!”

Eddie sits up straight angrily. “Listen, Myra, I can do whatever I want. Don’t talk to my friends like that.”

“They deserve it! They’re ruining you.”

Richie laughs loudly, shaking his head. “A lot of people smoke weed, Myra.”

“Yes, and it’s horrible for you! It burns your lungs up! It makes you stupid!”

Richie bites his lip. “Ma’am, I have a three point nine GPA. We got around that burning thing, anyway.” He gives Eddie a greedy once over, Eddie blushing hotly.

Myra is pissed. “Wh-wha—don’t even tell me. I knew this would happen. Hanging out with these _gays_ all the time, I knew they would do something to you!”

Richie groans, “Listen, I’m not gay, I’m _bisexual_. Say it with me, bi—” Stan bursts out laughing, but Myra’s face only goes redder.

“Shut up! I don’t care what you think you are! You’re ruining my boyfriend with your fairy shit!”

Eddie looks at her angrily. “Myra.” She stops, nervous at his tone of voice. The rest of them have heard it hundreds of times before, but it never leads to anything good. “Leave. Get out.” Her mouth moves like she’s trying to speak, but no noise comes out. “I can’t deal with you anymore. I hate the shit you say about my friends. I hate what you say about me. I hate it. Get out.”

Richie is trembling, trying to hold in his laughter. This is really, _really_ fucking funny. Nothing could be funnier to watch when you’re high than a fight. Eddie has been fed up with this girl since the second week of school, and she’s said enough in three months to permanently damage thirteen-year-old Richie’s ego for a lifetime. Eighteen-year-old Richie is much more well-adjusted and stoned, however, so all he can do is bite back his excitement. He watches her crumble, unable to come up with a defense for Eddie’s attack. People look at their group and assume Eddie is the one that needs protecting, the sensitive one with no backbone; in reality, Eddie is a tiger hellbent on self-preservation, constantly driven by the torture of his childhood.

Bill wakes up in the commotion, eyebrows furrowing as he turns toward them “What the fuck is going on?”

Stan, Eddie, and Richie burst into laughter, unable to hold back any longer.

Myra is mortified, and being laughed at sends her over the edge. “Fine, I’ll leave! Have fun with these stupid, pothead, gay—losers! They’re losers, Eddie!”

“I know! I’m a fucking loser, too, Myra! Now get out before you have to keep looking at me! I’m a goddamned loser!” Eddie laughs and falls into Richie’s side, pulled close by the protective heat of his body.

Myra’s lip trembles as she watches him, angry that Eddie had never wanted her touch the way he wants Richie’s. They’re glued to each other in every way, and her relationship with him always felt like two magnets repelling each other. Eddie never hugged her or held her hand. Now she gets to watch herself lose him to that brat, Richie Tozier.

Stan opens the door without a word, signalling to her that it’s time to leave.

Eddie watches as she turns and walks out. He groans and holds his face in his hands. “I’ll never hear the end of it from her or from my mother.”

Richie frowns, rubbing his shoulder. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

Eddie looks up at him with his droopy, reddened eyes and smiles just barely. “What?”

Richie picks up his lighter and flips it open, his eyebrow quirking. They all cheer and roll two more joints, settling back into their routine for the night. Richie starts another incense stick and sits back, lighting the end of his joint and taking a long hit to settle back in. “Well. That was eventful.” He blows the smoke into the room slowly, lips wrapped by the silvery curls loosely. He catches Eddie watching in the corner of his eye and turns to look at him. “Today sucked, in terms of her.”

Eddie licks his lips and looks him over. “Yeah. It really did.” He sits back to match Richie’s posture. “Shotgun me.”

Richie raises his eyebrows, surprised. “It’s only your first time, Eds. I don’t want you to push it.”

Eddie’s eyes go dark as he takes Richie in. “What happens if I do?”

Richie licks his lips nervously. “Uh—um. You—it, uh, depends. Like right now, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re feeling horny for the first time in your life.”

“Shotgun me.”

Richie swallows. “No comment on the horny thing, huh?” He looks Eddie up and down slowly as he brings the joint to his lips, breathing in sharply twice to get a good buzz for himself before he holds Eddie’s jaw tightly for a third time. He leans in so their noses touch again, this time with their cupid’s bows just barely brushing. He lets the smoke pour out thick and slow, feeling Eddie’s jaw twitch in his hand. He hears the smaller boy start to breathe in agonizingly slow, eyes slipping completely closed. Richie’s thumb catches on his full bottom lip, licking his own; it comes dangerously close to Eddie’s mouth. Stan makes a soft “ooh” sound and Bill cheers quietly, still groggy from being woken up. Richie finishes his breath shakily and makes his final decision. He closes the minute distance between them before Eddie can breathe out the smoke. Their lips brush together shyly at first, then he feels Eddie pressing up into him from his position against the side of the bed. His kiss coy but eager, feeling through the small curls at the nape of Richie's neck as their lips slant together comfortably.

Richie gets off in the shower that night.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh jeez, sorry this took so long! I started writing this over winter break and got completely caught up with school work because of the start of the semester. I hope you like it!

**November 30, 1994**

It’s been a week since they kissed. They’ve smoked a few more times, each with Richie shotgunning Eddie’s hits, but never as intensely as the first night. They don’t mention it because they don’t need to. Eddie doesn’t need his inhaler at any point, and he seems more relaxed since telling Myra to get out of his life, essentially. Each room of their suite is decorated for Christmas, and Eddie actually gets to enjoy it with his new-found free time.

He and Bill went out for lunch, Richie preferring to stay home and have something out of the fridge. It’s Wednesday and Richie only has one class at twelve, so when he gets home a little before one thirty he’s starving and lazy. Eddie and Bill head upstairs to get to their rooms, hearing music pouring from the third floor.

Richie is dancing to his _Grease_ record, feeling a particular attraction to it lately. He wants to audition for the band, the flyers spread across campus by the pit director desperately calling for a guitar after theirs cancelled with a family issue. He thinks he’ll do it, itching to get out and play. As the other boys come into the room, he belts, “ _Oh, oh, oh, blue moon~_ ,” making Bill giggle and Eddie roll his eyes. Eddie’s phone rings and his eyebrows pinch, picking up.

“What?”

“ _Without a dream in my heaaart~_ ”

“Shut the fuck up! No—goddamn it, not you, Richie is fucking screaming.”

“Eddie, what’s gotten into you with all this language? Are they influencing you?”

“I’ve talked like this since I was thirteen. Why the fuck did you call me?”

“I...I miss you.”

“That sucks.”

Richie and Bill giggle together and dance to the next track’s upbeat music. Eddie rolls his eyes but smiles, licking his lips nervously.

“Eddie, please… I just want to talk.”

“We talked that night. There’s nothing to discuss. I hate dating you. It’s like dating my fucking mom.”

Riche laughs and yells into the phone, “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about!” Eddie growls and shoves him roughly onto his bed, making Richie’s stomach flutter high into his throat. He’s usually not that forceful.

“Eddie, is he listening to our conversation?”

“He can hear my side, of course he wants some input. I’d be worried if he wasn’t screaming.” He rolls his eyes and sits on the bed by Richie to look out the windows.

“I know you don’t actually like him.”

“Why would I live with him and hang out with him if I didn’t like him?”

“You’re always talking about how annoying he is. I don’t know why you do it.”

“Yeah, he annoys the shit out of me. He’s also my best friend that tried to fix my broken arm and snuck me out of my house when my mom threatened to beat me.” Richie looks at him sadly, remembering all the teary calls that made him ride his bike as fast as he could to his house to sneak him out of the window. He takes Eddie’s free hand softly to hold it and play with his fingers. Bill sits on Eddie’s bed and shakes his head as he listens. He and Richie meet eyes, having an unspoken conversation just in their looks.

“ _Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart caused by youuu~_ ” Richie sings quietly, bopping his feet off the side of the bed to the syncopated rhythm. Eddie looks at him and his puppy dog eyes pouting back up to him. He huffs and scoots closer.

“Listen, I have to go. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Richie sits up suddenly, grabbing a model airplane he has on the shelf to make loud fighter plane noises next to the phone. Eddie smacks his arms to try to get him away, biting his lip and trying to hold back laughter. “Myra. I have to go, my toddler is having play time. Don’t talk to me. I don’t want you to.” He hangs up abruptly, sitting up to tackle Richie to the bed and tickle his sides. “Dude, shut the fuck up! You’re a goddamn child.”

Richie laughs hysterically, glasses going askew as he fights against Eddie’s weight over his stomach. They play fight and tickle for a while, but Eddie holds out. He pushes his hips up to try to disturb his position and freezes immediately, his hips grazing just barely against Eddie’s curved back. “Okay, truce.” Bill smirks as he watches, catching onto what happened to Richie as soon as his hips bucked.

Eddie arches an eyebrow. “Oh, truce? You never do that.”

Richie shrugs, flooded with all the times he’s touched Eddie’s bare thighs in a selfish, inconspicuous way. He can only imagine if…

“Richie?” Eddie tilts his head and relaxes some, his back arching gently. Richie swallows and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I, uh… I gotta go to the bathroom.” Richie barely lets Eddie climb off of him before he clambers off the bed desperately, going to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He braces himself on the counter in front of the sink, tilting his head back to try to calm down. _Anything, think of anything but him. Running in gym in tenth grade and throwing up. Those horrible grey shorts they made us wear. Eddie’s barely fit around his thighs and—_ He growls to himself and kicks his foot against the tiled corner of a wall. He gasps in pain, falling to his knees, sufficiently breaking his focus on the other boy. He stands straight and looks at himself in the mirror, turning on the cold water to splash his face. He shakes his head and dries off the ends of his hair and his glasses. _That was close. You can’t fucking lose your composure like that, Tozier._ He takes a deep breath and walks back into the room. He feels Bill and Eddie’s stares and blushes. “Fuckin’ what?”

“A-are you okay, dude?”

Richie makes a face like it’s a ridiculous question. “Uh, yeah? Had to use the bathroom.”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch “...Okay...Well, it’s almost three. You wanted to go to the auditorium and audition?”

Richie nods. “Yeah. You guys wanna go?”

They both shrug and nod, Bill quickly texting Stan to let him know they’re leaving. The walk to the auditorium is cold and quick, and Richie messes with his hands nervously as they get closer. 

“Guys, I’m gonna hurl.”

“Oh no you don’t. If you do, I do, and then I’ll punch you in the dick.” Eddie shoves him forward and huffs.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

The auditorium is thrumming with the sounds of preparation before a well-rehearsed show. People are trying on costumes and wigs, sketching makeup designs, and instruments warm up quietly below the stage. There are only two weeks until the three shows they do, which is why Richie is here in the first place—he knows the music. He smiles nervously and shakes the pit director’s hand. “Hi, I’m Richie Tozier. I’m here to audition to fill the guitar.”

The director smiles and nods. “Fantastic. Get in there and show me what you can do.” Richie nods and takes his spot next to the bassist, shaking the long haired kid’s hand and introducing himself. He gets out his sparkly red guitar and hooks it up to tune it, settling in and making sure the score is the same as the one he learned off of in high school. He licks his lips and looks out to Eddie and Bill sitting with the director, already pestering her good-naturedly.

“Y’know, our friend is auditioning to fill your guitar.”

“Oh, fine, I guess you can stay.”

They take their seats on either side of her, watching Richie settle into the pit. The conductor comes to his podium, bringing his baton up. Richie is completely in his element, talking to no one and saying nothing as he performs. He fits into the bass rhythm flawlessly for the opening song, head bobbing from side to side lazily. His leg jumps along with the drums and he smiles as the bass guy nudges him encouragingly. Eddie can’t peel his eyes off of him despite the opening scene panning out onstage. He looks focused and calm, letting himself melt into the music he’s known since their community production. Richie mouths along to the music to himself as he quietly lays off the last note. There’s applause from onstage and in the pit, the conductor jumping excitedly. “Richie, that was great. Do you mind getting onstage and running a scene with the band up there for the dance scenes?” Richie’s lips part in hesitation, but he smiles and nods. “No problem.”

“Okay, we’re running _Blue Moon_ ! Dancers, bandstand, _Blue Moon_!”

Richie looks _so cool_ up there. Eddie knows he must be dying, but he looks so collected as the conductor calls them to attention to start. The black-haired boy watches the bassist for the “choreography” the strings do, catching on quickly. He laughs at a comment the boy makes, shaking his head as he plays along casually. Richie is simultaneously the most nervous and most outgoing person Eddie knows. He can’t stop watching him get used to the little dips and turns, adjusting to the light in his eyes and dancers flashing in front of him. One of the singers gives him a happy bump on the shoulder, thankful for the presence of a guitar at all, let alone someone as good as Richie.

“Okay, Richie, audition passed. No need to decide. You’re phenomenal.”

Richie beams, cheeks turning pink. “Thank you, sir.”

Eddie looks up as he hears a door open in the back and quickly ducks down into his seat. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ The drums on the stage begin loudly as they start to rehearse _Born to Hand Jive_ , Richie jumping to life to fill the music the dancers have missed for the last few rehearsals. Myra marches down to the director as she notices the sound of guitar and looks up. Her face reddens in anger as she sees Richie tearing up the music break, infiltrating what she viewed as her kingdom. Eddie had completely forgotten that she does crew for the drama club; it turns out he forgets a lot about conversations if he doesn’t like the person he’s having them with. The director laughs at Richie and Eddie’s ridiculousness, even as they’re a hundred feet apart, and she looks down at the kid cowering in his seat. “What are you doing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing, I don’t exist.” Myra huffs and comes up to the director.

“I see we have a replacement guitarist.”

The director smiles. “Yes, we do. Isn’t he fantastic?”

Myra wrinkles her nose. “He could be better.”

Eddie growls and sits up to look at her. “Oh, shut up.”

“I should’ve known _you’d_ be with him.” Eddie rolls his eyes and mocks her to Bill as the boy holds back his laughter. The director frowns, looking Myra over.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Uh, that’s the way she is all the time.” Eddie shrugs to her and raises his eyebrows.

The director hums in dissatisfaction. “I see. What did you need, Myra?”

“The copier for the tickets broke. I’m not sure what to do.”

The director rubs her face in frustration. “Okay. I’ll come take a look. You two behave, okay? I don’t know you, but I’m trusting you with my auditorium.” She smiles and stands, wrapping her cardigan around herself and picking up her thick binder to leave. The band decides they should run _Tears on My Pillow_ , and Bill and Eddie jump up to dance along animatedly in the seats. Richie rolls his eyes and laughs, watching them stumble as their feet catch on the legs of the immobile chairs. They hold each other and laugh breathlessly, happy to provide entertainment for the cast and crew.

“You guys sure you don’t want to join? You’re so graceful.” The conductor smiles at his own joke, watching as they bow deeply. Myra and the director come back then, the scowl plastered on the girl’s face enough to kill the mood. Rehearsal after that is just a quick runthrough. There’s only one more this Sunday before the week of performances, so Richie feels reassured that it won’t ruin his free time. He’s got to enjoy all the time Eddie spends at home in his pajama shorts now.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Stagefright, look at you!” Eddie reaches up to pinch his cheek delicately. “You did so well.”

Bill nods. “You did. I w-was impressed.”

Richie blushes and puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Thanks, guys. I was really nervous the whole time.”

Eddie’s eyes soften. “You don’t need to be. You’re a natural.” Eddie could tease and insult him all day, but when it comes to discussions about Richie’s anxiety, he backs off. He knows how hard it can be for Richie to get out there, and he would never mock him for that. He really is proud of him. “You sounded good.”

Richie bites his lip and pulls Eddie closer. “Thank you.” He leans in and kisses Eddie’s temple, comfortable enough with the empty walkway to do so. He hums and rubs Eddie’s shoulder gently. He wants to let himself have him, just for a few moments. Eddie blushes profusely, looking up at Richie silently as he looks away at some squirrels climbing a tree. Bill smiles at both of them, wondering when the fuck they’ll just get together. They’ve been even touchier than usual, barely able to keep soft touches and slaps away from the other. It’s nearly infuriating to watch.

“Stan wants to go to that restaurant on campus tonight. Do y-you guys want to come?”

Richie and Eddie look at each other and smile. “Sure, Bill. Sounds fun. I don’t want dining hall food.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “Yeah. If I have it again I’ll probably die.” Richie laughs louder than he normally would at the unfunny joke, nudging Eddie happily. The hand rubbing his shoulder migrates closer to his neck, massaging in firm circles. Eddie’s eyelashes flutter and his lips part as his stomach flips happily. _How does he do that? Just one little touch and suddenly I’m his._ Eddie looks up at him again, licking his lips.

_I’ve always been his._

_“Eds, c’mon, it’s not dangerous. It’s just like riding a bike.” Richie braces his arms as Eddie wobbles on his skateboard, unable to get his knees used to the feeling._

_“I don’t know, Rich, I don’t feel very secure.”_

_“No one does when they first start. I know you’ll get it, just let me push you.”_

_Eddie swallows and nods. The board moves before he can adjust, and he trips off into Richie’s arms. Richie holds him up securely. In Richie’s fenced in backyard, it feels safe to be in his arms. No one can see two boys touching each other platonically._

_“See? Nothing bad happened. I caught you.” Richie chuckles and pets his soft hair indulgently. “I’d never let you get hurt.”_

Eddie wonders if Richie can feel every time he thinks about him. Do they think about each other at the same time? Even when they’re not together? What would he even feel? He’s too busy staring up at him to notice the uneven sidewalk, the toe of his brown boot catching against the concrete. Richie catches him effortlessly in his surprisingly strong arms, lifting him upright and petting his cheek.

“Eds, are you okay?”

Eddie blushes, actually hearing his blood rush in his ears. “Don’t call me Eds.”

Richie’s eyebrows raise and he casually fixes Eddie’s hair from where it flopped forward. 

“Alright. Are you okay, Eduardo?”

Eddie pouts and scowls at him, huffing. “I’m fine. I only stubbed my toe.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I don’t know, fuckface, I didn’t choose to!”

Richie shoves him gently, rolling his eyes. “I’m never helping you again.”

“Fine by me, asshole.”

Bill rubs his face in exhaustion, feeling ninety years old from listening to their bickering. “You guys n-never shut up.”

Eddie scoffs, “Ugh! Hey, it’s not _my_ fault!”

Richie hums and takes Eddie back under his arm to keep walking. “Sure it isn’t.”

Eddie’s phone goes off twice, one ping directly after another, so he pulls it out to inspect. He grimaces and starts pressing through the letters to reply the texts. “God, can’t she leave me alone?”

Richie hums and fixes his hair softly, fluffy pieces still hanging in his face. “You never directly said ‘I’m breaking up with you.’ She’ll never catch on until you do. Then you have the wrath of her and your mom.” He wants to stop saying it as it comes out of his mouth. He knows he can influence Eddie’s decision.

Eddie groans and rubs his forehead. “Shit. You’re right. Should I just do it now?”

Richie raises his eyebrows. “I mean, if you want to break up over text. You’ve already ignored her for over a week.” He wants to stop talking. _Just let him do it. Let him text her._

Eddie huffs. “I guess I should just call her.” He brings his phone to his ear and Richie groans.

“Goddamn it, dude, in front of us?” Eddie scowls at him and he smiles cheekily.

“Hello? Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. “Hi, Myra.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“Well...I’m not busy right now.”

“Uh...okay.” He swallows nervously, the reality hitting him as she says it. “Then I’ll meet you. Your dorm?”

“Sure.”

“Uh, okay. Bye.” He looks at his phone and his eyebrows pinch as he hangs up. “Ew. Ew, ew, ew. This is awful.” He heaves a heavy breath, looking at both of them. “I’m gonna vomit.”

“No way, man. If I can’t, you can’t. You just have to do it.”

Eddie nods and swallows through a grimace. “Yeah. Yeah, I just have to.” He pulls out his inhaler with shaky hands, breathing in the bitter fumes to help himself calm down. 

Bill pats his shoulder comfortingly. “You have to.”

Eddie nods again. “Okay, I’m going. I’m doing it. I’ll be back later.”

Richie and Bill look at each other and sigh as they turn to go inside. “Dude, that fuckin’ blows.” Richie shakes his head as they walk to the elevator. He hits the button and bites his lip nervously. He pulls out his phone to send Eddie a quick text.

_Richard: I know you can do it._

He chews on his lip harder and hears his phone ding a few seconds later.

_Spaghetti: Thanks. Tell the guys I love them if the dragon flambes me._

Richie smiles as he gets out of the elevator, turning to the right to go to the end of the hallway. The end wall has their doors, and their suite takes up the entire corner of the building. Richie calls it their estate. He goes to Bill and Stan’s room to talk with them instead of being alone. Thankfully, Stan is there to talk with him about the whole breakup thing that Bill has never had to do.

_Richard: No can do. I think that message is reserved just for me._

_Spaghetti: Maybe ;)_

He shows Stan and Bill the texts, wondering if he’s reading too far.

“His name in your phone is Spaghetti?”

Richie shrugs and plugs it into Stan’s charger. The tiny screen lights up green, indicating that it’s connected to power. “Yeah. Eddie felt weird. My name in his is Richard.” He smiles shyly, admitting something only the two of them knew.

“He’s flirting with you. That’s just what it feels like when he plays your game.” Stan’s nose scrunches as he giggles. Bill nods, leaning in to read them again. “Stan is right.”

_Spaghetti: Abort this is not going well._

_Spaghetti: She’s crying and won’t look up._

_Spaghetti: DO I LEAVE NOW??_

Richie’s jaw drops, laughing at the string of messages. “Jesus fucking Christ. Well, boys? What should he do?”

Bill and Stan both cup their mouths with their hands and yell “Leave~!” simultaneously. Richie shrugs and nods.

_Richard: Leave. Be like ‘sorry bye’_

_Spaghetti: I did it. Am I a man now?_

_Richard: Only if you come home n kiss me._

_Spaghetti: GAY_

Richie laughs at the little screen and blushes to himself.

“He’s right, that’s p-pretty gay.” Bill says through his laughter, applauding their absent friend.

Richie hums and looks down at his phone. “Do you think he wants to be alone for a minute?”

Stan nods and pats his shoulder. “Yeah. Good call.” They sit for a while, thinking and making small comments to each other, until there’s a timid knock at their door. Richie stands to open it, the other two busy cuddling. He melts when he’s met with a teary-eyed Eddie.

“Oh, Eds, c’mere.” Richie pulls him into a protective hug, his head naturally tucking under his chin. He rubs his back and pets his hair soothingly. “Are you okay?”

“It...it felt so mean…” Eddie crumples into his chest, clinging to his warmth as his skin tingles from the cold outside.

Richie’s fingers card into his hair “I know...but you just weren’t happy. It was the right thing.” Eddie nods against him and Richie’s eyes squeeze shut, Eddie’s pain feeling like a dagger to his own chest. He rocks him slowly, sniffing with him. “I’ve got you.”

Eddie nods and tucks his face into his shirt to breathe in his cologne. “Y-yeah… you do.” Richie pulls back to look at him. He wipes his tears gently, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“You’ll be okay. Promise.” He wipes his cheeks again, eyes roaming over his sad face. “Oh, Eddie…” He pulls him back in and rocks him. The other two come over to group hug them, rubbing Eddie’s back together. Richie sighs as Eddie gives a watery chuckle, kissing the top of his head softly. “Do you want a hot chocolate, babe?” He looks down to meet his eyes again and smiles. “I bet it’ll make you feel better.”

Bill gasps. “Hey, I want one!”

“Me too!”

Richie chuckles and tilts his head at Eddie. Eddie smiles and nods, laughing quietly. “Sure. That sounds good.” Richie takes his hand and leads him through the bathroom to their room to get out the kettle they aren’t supposed to have to boil water.

“Sorry it’s not milk, but I’ll make it with extra mix.” Stan and Bill sit on Eddie’s bed and Eddie takes Richie’s as he starts the kettle. He shuffles through their food cabinet to find the mix, pulling out six packets and bag of mini marshmallows.

Eddie wipes his eyes with his hoodie sleeves. “That’s okay. Made with love and bitchiness.” He giggles to himself and watches Richie’s movements as he makes it. “Thanks for making it, Rich.” Richie smiles and shrugs gently, mixing the powder and hot water in a container and pouring it into four mugs. He tops each with a heavy hand of marshmallows and brings them over to the other boys. He climbs on his bed and pulls Eddie into his side to hold him close.

“No problem. I know you like it when you’re sad.” he rubs Eddie’s temple and takes a drink, making an impressed face. “It doesn’t taste like absolute shit. Nice.”

Stan licks his lips. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. Thanks, bub.”

“Thank you~!”

Eddie bites his lip and tucks his feet under Richie’s thigh. “Thank you. Again.” He wipes his face one more time and takes a big drink before he lays his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie pulls a blanket over their legs and rubs Eddie’s arm through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s really no problem. I just want you to feel better.” They finish their mugs and set them on Richie’s desk. Eddie yawns, so Richie looks down at him. “Wanna cuddle while I read some of my play? They’re already knocked out on your side.”

Eddie looks at the other two boys tangled up in each other and his comforter and nods. “Yeah, sure.” He watches Richie compile all his pillows, the one made for sitting in bed getting tucked on top into the corner against the wall and window. He grabs the book from his desk and settles against the makeshift chair, laying with his side open for Eddie to snuggle against him.

Richie turns to the page he’s on as his arm wraps around Eddie comfortingly. Eddie pulls up his comforter and wiggles to get comfortable against his side. Richie smiles and wiggles back to hold him more comfortably and clears his throat to read aloud quietly.

“Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well,

Now go with me and with this holy man

Into the chantry by: there, before him,

And underneath that consecrated roof,

Plight me the full assurance of your faith;”

Eddie hums quietly against him, his droopy eyes crinkling in a lazy smile. He pats Richie’s chest softly, comforted by his warmth—after countless other times—and the sound of his uniquely soft and deep voice. He could listen to him read for hours. He sounds so confident and at ease when it’s just the two of them. He remembers his voice trembling softly as he read Romeo’s part to Eddie as Juliet in their tenth grade English class. He could never forget sitting on the desk in front of him to simulate the balcony; scandalized whispers surrounded them, but the teacher beamed with support. He supposed scandal was fitting for characters like Romeo and Juliet. A straight couple would have been boring.

“That my most jealous and too doubtful soul

May live at peace.”

He keeps reading softly, his free hand turning pages between burying in Eddie’s golden-brown hair. Eddie’s eyes droop so heavy that he has to close them, but he could never fall asleep while listening to Richie. Even if he didn’t understand some of the lines without the context of the rest of the play, his brain couldn’t act like it wasn’t the most important information he’d ever heard. He stretches his short legs and rests one foot under Richie’s knee as he adjusts his hips. Richie’s soft fingertips absentmindedly brush down onto his neck and back up into his hair a few times; it makes Eddie shiver and scoot closer, his arm now hugging around his torso more than resting on it. Richie smiles, Eddie can hear it in his voice. He smiles back and rests his face in the bend of the other boy’s neck. Richie hums in approval of the new position, Eddie’s body working as a weighted blanket to soothe some of the frayed nerves that are ever-present in his mind. His hand leaves Eddies neck to turn the page and comes back to rub straight lines against the sensitive skin. Eddie bites his lip and squirms, feeling heat low in his stomach. His shoulder scrunches up to stop Richie’s hand. “Tickles…”

Richie nods and, preferring to not break their close contact, goes back to running his fingers through the other boy’s hair. He finishes reading the act assigned and leans to set the book on his desk. He feels Eddie tug on him in protest of his movements.

“Don’t leave…”

Richie smiles softly, moving so he’s back to where he was. “I won’t. Just putting my book down.” He settles back in and pulls Eddie back into him, his soft face realigning with his neck. Eddie hums in satisfaction, hand bunching up in Richie’s shirt. “I’m sorry it was another bad day.”

Eddie coos against his neck softly. “Better now.” He smiles as Richie lays his head against his. He feels the blanket come up to his arm over Richie’s chest, making him feel even more secure. “So, do you think you’re gonna get involved with the drama club now?”

Richie wrinkles his nose. “Not sure. I mean, I’m gonna help with this one, but I don’t know if it’s my thing. I wanna do the English frat.”

Eddie smiles. “Makes sense. Nerd.”

Richie pouts. “Hey~, it’s not _that_ nerdy.”

Eddie hums, unconvinced. He shifts a little and wraps his shins around Richie’s knee to anchor him to the bed. “You’re cuddly.”

Richie chuckles quietly, petting Eddie’s hair and letting his fingers dip back down to the soft skin of his neck. “Thanks. Thought I’d try it out. We haven’t cuddled since the hammock at the club.”

“That was not cuddling. I regularly kicked you.”

Richie hums. “I guess so, maybe not cuddling. But it was nice to have you so close.” He smiles sheepishly to himself as a light blush stains his cheeks and nose.

Eddie licks his lips. “Yeah...sometimes I complained about the rule just so we could be in it together. I liked laying with you.”

“I like this way more. I get to pet you.” Richie smiles and turns his head to kiss Eddie’s forehead. “And do that.” He does it again and Eddie giggles, tucking his face between Richie’s head and the pillow shyly.

“Quit it…”

Richie smiles and untangles their legs to turn toward him. He kisses his blushing, smiling cheek gently, arms snaking around his waist. Eddie giggles into the pillow and brings his hands up to hide his face. Richie kisses the backs of both of his hands softly, watching the bones and tendons twitch in approval. “Eddie Spaghetti~,” he giggles and rubs up and down Eddie’s spine with a light touch, “don’t be so shy…”

Eddie giggles again and shivers under his fingertips. “I’ll be as shy as I want, Trashmouth.” He moves to hug Richie tightly, burying his face in Richie’s chest. “You always make me feel better. Even if you make me mad.” He squirms his body closer to tangle their legs again, feeling Richie kiss his head a second time. He won’t try to act like he doesn’t love all this attention.

“I’m glad. It hurts to see you upset. I always want to make it better.” He takes off his glasses to close his eyes, close enough to Eddie to get a general idea of his emotions if he opens them. “I always want you to be happy. And safe.”

Eddie swallows. “Shut the fuck up, that’s so cheesy.”

Richie laughs quietly, hand moving to cup Eddie’s jaw. “Yeah, whatever. You fuckin’ like it.” His thumb pets his speckly cheek slowly. Neither of them are any good at growing facial hair like Bill, so his skin still feels perfect and soft. He opens his eyes to Eddie staring at him and their gazes lock. “Eds?”

There’s a second of silence. “Yeah?”

“I fucked your mom.”

Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “Wow, Rich, so romantic. Though something weird and cool was happening here. Thanks for that.” He can’t help but smile, though. Not when Richie is shaking with laughter against him.

“Oh, romance? That sounds a little bit gay, Eds.” Richie snorts and his shoulders shake harder as Eddie slaps one gently. He leans in before Eddie can react to kiss his cheek dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

“Since when do you have a problem with gay?” Eddie giggles and arches into his touch instinctively. He pets down Richie’s arm, meeting their hands to hold them.

“Not one problem with it at all. Just surprised it’s from you.” Richie smiles lazily as his free hand under Eddie drags up and down his back. All the petting they’re doing is new and exciting, but it feels like a comfort they’ve been deprived of for years.

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t think I’m straight at all, Rich. I couldn’t even hold hands with Myra.” He quirks an eyebrow to their joined hands pointedly.

Richie beams. “Thank you for telling me that, Eddie. You know I’m here for you. I’m proud of you.”

Eddie swallows, his lip trembling suddenly. He feels himself gasp as his eyes start watering. “I’m proud of me, too.” Tears pour quickly out of his eyes and sideways onto Richie’s pink pillow. Saying it feels like a dam breaking in his chest. He’s suddenly hit with every urge, every hidden attraction, every attack Richie got for being outed that made him terrified to be who he is. He finally feels safe enough to, well, come out and say it.

Richie pulls him in for a tight hug, hand letting go of Eddie’s to twist in his hair. “Oh my God, I’m so proud of you. Holy shit, Eds.” He smiles and feels his own eyes water, amazed at Eddie for doing something he never got the chance to do. He feels Eddie shake against his chest with happy tears and he can’t help but laugh. “No matter how snotty and tough I try to act, I love you. I love you so much and I’m so happy for you.”

Eddie coos and giggles moving back to wipe his tears for a second time that day. “I don’t know what just possessed me.” He laughs and feels Richie’s hand come up to wipe his tears, just like before. They’re good tears this time.

“Gay Jesus compelled you to speak your truth.” Richie laughs and kisses the tip of his little nose softly. “That is your, like—you’re gay, right?”

Eddie nods. “I’m a big fat gay that has the hots for men.”

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on over there?” Stan sits up and rubs his eyes. They both laugh loudly, blushing at having their conversation heard.

“Stan, Spaghetti Man is gay!” Richie ruffles his hair softly and kisses his wet cheek.

Bill wakes up to the sound of excited yelling and rubs his eyes as he smiles. “No way! That’s awesome, Eddie.”

Stan bounces on the bed and claps “Oh, Eddie, congratulations!” He looks at Bill and cocks his head to tell him silently to look. Richie is cupping Eddie’s face as they laugh, still tangled together and laying on the mountain of pillows. Bill raises his eyebrows and smiles up at Stan knowingly. Stan leans down to give him a soft kiss, cupping his face the same way Richie cups Eddie’s. Bill smiles against his lips softly. “Love you.”

“Love you too, you cuddle bug.” Stan lays back down beside him to hold him against his chest, glancing up at Richie and Eddie every so often.

Richie can’t stop hugging him. He can’t stop kissing his cheeks and nose and the backs of his hands when he hides his face shyly. He can’t help but show how proud he is. That, and as long as Eddie is comfortable with the kisses, he won’t stop.

“Richie?”

“Mmm?” Richie cracks one eye open to look at him.

“Love you, too. You’re so good.” Eddie blushes. It’s his turn to cup Richie’s face.

Richie bites his lip giddily, the wind up for his joke unbearable. “I’m so glad my step-son loves me.” Eddie smacks his cheek hard and Bill and Stan splutter with laughter. “Ow!”

“Don’t be a fucking dick, Rich.” Even as he says it, he’s rubbing the pink mark apologetically. “I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

Richie gives him a pouty look. “But you did.” His bottom lip curls just barely.

Eddie rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss his cheek softly. “There. All better.”

“Are you guys m-making out over there?” Bill smirks as Stan covers his mouth to hold back his laughter.

Richie sits up to look over Eddie’s shoulder. “No, but we can start if you wa—ow!”

“Jesus, Richie.”

“Sorry. I deserved that.”

“Guys~, I’m hungry.” Stan whines, pouting toward them over Bill’s head. They both roll their eyes and smile, Richie checking Eddie’s watch for the time.

“Damn, it’s seven. You wanna go get dinner?”

Eddie coos, “Ooh, yeah, this gay boy is hungry.”

“God, you’re already starting.”

They get back around nine, spending a while after finishing their food to talk and celebrate Eddie and decide which dessert they should all split. They stumble up the stairs good-naturedly, drunk on laughter rather than illegally purchased alcohol. It’s time for them to retire to their own rooms for the evening, all ready to settle in and get ready for bed, though they usually stay up until twelve. Richie showers while Eddie changes and brushes his teeth, and Richie changes as Eddie goes to the bathroom. Richie has on his black sweatpants and a maroon college sweatshirt, and he’s being tortured by Eddie’s combination of a sweatshirt and black short shorts trimmed with white. His tube socks of choice are the fluffy kind with snowflakes patterned onto the black fabric. He comes out of the bathroom and flicks the room light off, throwing the room into an array of soft yellow and colorful tones from their lamps and Christmas lights that line the ceiling. Richie looks over his body greedily as he closes the binder on his desk for the night, holding back a groan when he bends at the waist to put it away.

“Eddie, do you wanna watch something?” He bites his lip hopefully, watching the way his socked feet move against the rug.

Eddie hums. “Sure, Rich. Can I pick?” He walks over to their small selection of movies on the TV stand beside the end of his bed.

“Of course. My idea, your choice.” Richie smiles as his eyes rake over his frame. Eddie picks up a VHS and pops it into the player, going to the fridge to grab two Cokes. He gets in the cabinet above for the Oreos and peanut butter, then makes his way to Richie’s bed to sit by him.

“You’re a mind reader.” Richie smiles and helps him with holding the food as he climbs up. Eddie sits tucked right into his side, his knees bending and resting against Richie’s hip. _Fuck._

“What can I say? I know you.” The opening of 101 Dalmatians starts playing and Eddie wiggles happily. “Aw. Good end to the day.”

Richie cracks open his coke and holds it between his knees as he puts his arm around Eddie. “I’m glad. Seemed like a pretty shitty day.” He takes an Oreo out of the package and dips it in the peanut butter. He considers eating it himself, but looks to Eddie and brings it to the other boy’s mouth. Eddie smiles and giggles, nose scrunching, and bites off half the cookie. “Fanks.” He says around his mouthful, pressing his head into Richie’s shoulder gratefully. Richie hums and eats the other half, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s soft sleeve. “Welcome.” He fixes his glasses and takes a drink of his soda. Eddie’s hand rubs over his own bare thigh and he shivers, his back arching.

“‘m cold. Can you give me that blankie?” He looks up with puppy dog eyes and smiles.

“Wear bigger pants.” Richie grabs the blanket and puts it over their laps gently. Eddie sets the food back down and squirms happily. “Thank you~”

Richie hums and takes another drink from the glass bottle. “Welcome, babe.” He sighs and settles in further, feeling the other boy’s knees wiggle on his hip. He swallows quietly and his hand slips from his upper arm to his waist to rub circles through the thick fabric of his shirt. After a few minutes he feels Eddie shift closer, his knees pushing further into his lap. He bites his lip as his hand flattens and smooths against the curve of Eddie’s waist, feeling the give of his skin and eventually the high waisted band of his shorts. He bites his tongue to try to restrain himself as his fingertips rub firm circles against Eddie’s high hip bone. He shifts slightly as a heavy heat settles in his pelvis. He hears Eddie coo just barely under his breath and feels him shift, clearly getting a little stirred up by the movement of his hand. Richie looks down at him and his eyes are dark and hooded, waiting for the other boy to look up.

Eddie’s head turns to meet his eyes. He bites his lip softly and swallows. “Richie…”

Richie nods just barely, keeping his hand in the same motion. He watches Eddie’s mouth move wordlessly. He can see the boy’s eyes losing focus, eyelashes fluttering as his gaze lowers to Richie’s mouth. Richie’s jaw clenches as he swallows. Eddie watches the strong muscle by his ear flex as he does it and presses closer. Richie leans in to close the distance, their lips meeting in their first _real_ kiss. Richie’s eyebrows pinch and his hand comes up to cup Eddie’s soft jaw. Eddie pushes up into him, holding onto his sweatshirt with both hands. Richie hums in approval and moves to break the kiss to put the food and drinks to his desk. He sits against the pile of pillows from earlier and beckons Eddie with his hand. “C’mere.” His eyebrows raise as Eddie drops the blanket from his lap and moves up to him on his knees to straddle his lap. He sets his weight down carefully and takes Richie’s face in both hands as he leans down with his head tilted. Eddie has zero kissing experience, and Richie can tell, but it doesn’t stop him from holding Eddie’s waist and dragging him closer.

Eddie smiles against his lips. “Tell me how to do it right.”

Richie shakes his head. “I don’t need to. You’re perfect. Just follow me.” He breaks the kiss to meet his eyes and push his hand back into his hair before it keeps falling to rest on his chest. His thumb brushes the corner of Eddie’s lips as he leans back in, lips going a little slack to get Eddie to loosen up. He can feel the way Eddie relaxes into it slowly, bit by bit learning the right way to purse his lips and how much he should push into it. By the end of the kiss, Richie needs to lean back for a breath. “Goddamn, Eddie.” He leans back in for a smaller kiss that’s almost impossible to pull away from. Eddie pouts at the loss of contact and moves to kiss the corner of his mouth before he meets his lips insistently.

Richie parts his lips slightly and his hands slip down to Eddie’s bare thighs to feel his soft skin. Eddie arches to lean his weight against him innocently, copying Richie and parting his lips. The kiss is suddenly hot, Richie’s fingers pressing into the thick flesh of his thighs as his tongue presses into his mouth. He takes a deep breath as he feels Eddie suck on his tongue sweetly, giggling as he wraps his arms around Richie’s broad shoulders. Richie’s eyebrows pinch when he feels Eddie’s hands slip into his curly hair, the smaller boy whining quietly for more. His thumbs slide up his inner thighs and tease the white piping at the hems of his shorts. Eddie rolls his hips down without a thought, giving in to what feels most natural. Richie breaks the kiss with a gasp as a stab of pleasure runs through him.

“Fuck, Eddie, that’s—” He’s cut off by Eddie grinding down again. He clenches his jaw and holds Eddie’s soft hips in place tightly, forearms and hands flexing hard. “Eddie.” He swallows and meets Eddie’s lazy eyes with a hard gaze.

Eddie gasps at the forceful feeling of his hands on his hips, stomach burning with desire. “Richie~” He watches the other boy’s eyes close hard, scrunching up from the sound of his name on the other boy’s voice. Eddie slides his hands up Richie’s chest slowly to cup his jaw and brings him back for a wet kiss. He smiles against Richie’s mouth again and whispers, “...I wanna keep going…” He licks his lips, his tongue brushing Richie’s, and kisses him deeper.

Richie died and went to heaven. That’s the only way he can understand this absolute treasure. He slips down so he’s at an angle and Eddie falls onto his chest. His hands drag down Eddie’s back and ass to hold the backs of his strong, bare thighs. He parts his lips and pushes his tongue into Eddie’s mouth again as Eddie grinds his hips down against Richie’s. Richie won’t let it go past this, but since Eddie made the decision all by himself, he happily squeezes the other boy’s thighs and pushes his hips up into his movements. He breaks the kiss with a wet sound and moves to kiss Eddie’s neck softly, slowly working up to sucking a red mark into the sensitive skin above his collarbone. Eddie moans shyly and holds his head enthusiastically, hips rolling down harder.

“Richie… _Richie~_ ”

Richie swallows and kisses up to his earlobe as he grabs handfuls off his ass. “Eds...you’re doing so good, darling. You feel so good…” He feels Eddie shiver against him, gasping as his thighs grip Richie’s hips. He smirks and kisses his ear softly as he rolls his hips up hard. “Are you coming, baby?”

Eddie nods and buries his face in Richie’s neck shly. Richie grinds a few more times before his hips stutter and he groans into Eddie’s hair. “Fuck—Eddie!” It’s hot and quick, and Richie is surprised at how little it took to send him over the edge. He pulls Eddie into a tight hug to kiss him, eyelashes fluttering as Eddie’s fingertips stroke along his collarbone exposed by the loose neck of his sweatshirt. He breaks the kiss reluctantly to meet Eddie’s soft expression with his own. “That was…”

Eddie blushes. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done that.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re a virgin.”

Eddie pouts and huffs. “Not that! I mean... _that_. I was always too scared of getting caught.”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck, really?” Eddie gives him a sour look and purses his lips. “Goddamn, Eds, that was really fucking hot for your first time ever.” Eddie giggles and gives him another kiss.

“It wasn’t weird? Like, I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“God—fuck no, babe. It was fucking sexy.”

Eddie blushes hard. “O-oh.”

Richie’s fingers drag over the soft skin of his thigh absentmindedly. “Yeah. Jesus, I really put a mark on your neck.” His hand comes up so he can stroke the patchy hickey with his thumb.

Eddie gasps. “No you didn’t.” He grabs the mirror Richie keeps on his desk to look, arching up so his hips press down and give Richie another shot of pleasure. “Trashmouth! What the fuck?” Richie laughs and takes the mirror out of his hand.

“Wanna give me one in return? I’ll teach you how. And you can make it really noticeable.”

“Ooh, yeah. You totally deserve it.” Eddie leans back down to kiss him more, giggling when Richie squeezes his ass.


End file.
